When I grow old I’ll read poetry in the bath by candlelight and drink champagne to rock ‘n roll. I’ll dance until the sun rises and sleep until noon when I’ll arise to drink my latte curled up in a velvet robe in a big easy chair in a room with books piled all around.

When I grow old I’m not going to care if my socks don’t match, or my roots are showing or my panties and bra are different colours because I’ll seldom wear socks and I won’t bother to dye my hair.

When I grow old I’ll wear bright coloured silks and feather boas to go to the grocery store and slinky satin palazzo pants when I visit the doctor.

No wait, when I grow old I won’t have to visit the doctor, he’ll come see me and tell me I’m a grand old dame and bring me bonbons and rare red wine because red wine keeps my arteries flowing freely and bonbons are just plain good to eat.

When I grow old I won’t worry about what people think about me or try to prove how smart I am.  I’ll just be me and  I won’t care if they think I’m odd or eccentric and they won’t care that I repeat myself and forget their names.

When I grow old I’ll walk barefoot in the mud right after the rain and feel the squishy oozy coolness of the earth sucking at my toes. I’ll laugh and dance and spin about and I won’t care if anyone is watching. I won’t care. I’ll do it because I want to. Because it pleases me.

When I grow old I’ll speak my mind without fearing someone else’s opinion of me is greater than my truth.

When I grow old I’ll write from my heart without fearing other’s will see my heart and then feel compelled to tell me what they see as the matter with me. I’ll write and speak my truth and know no one can take that from me.

When I grow old no one will have to remind me to eat my vegetables or lose weight or get some exercise. I’ll do it because it feels good and it speaks to how much I love me.